


Cursed

by sam4587



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Bullying, F/M, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Magician Sam Winchester, Minor Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Character Death, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Minor John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sam Winchester Has Merlin's Magic, Slow Build, Sorcerer Sam Winchester, but no creatures or monsters and no hunters, well except for the magic obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam4587/pseuds/sam4587
Summary: Sam is born with magic, but after what happened to Mary, John drags him and Dean across the States to get rid of it. Several things ensue, and then Sam meets Eileen, who seems to understand his situation like no one else could.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first long fic! It’s currently at 21 chapters, but it’s possible that this will change; I’m not very good in planning… Updates should come on Saturdays and Tuesdays!
> 
> This has been beta’d by Esther; thank you ~~for putting up with me~~ , I wouldn’t be here without you 😊. Since we’re both only human: if you see a mistake or you notice any inconsistencies, let me know and I’ll fix it! The same goes for the tags; if you think I missed one, let me know, because I’m still figuring that out and it’s harder than I had anticipated…
> 
> If you’ve read the notes this far, I’ll stop rambling now. Enjoy the story, let me know what you think in the comments or on my Tumblr!
> 
> Disclaimer: The story is mine, CW Supernatural is not. Please do not repost.

“Mom! Mom, Dad, quick! Come look at this!” The voice of their four-year-old son dragged John and Mary’s attention away from the television. When John looked at the doorway, he saw Dean standing there, with an expression on his face he couldn’t quite read. It was like a mix of excitement and worry. He got up from the couch and picked his son up from the ground.

“What is it? What are you doing out of bed, champ?” he asked.

“Come with me, you need to see this! It’s Sammy!” John could barely hold the boy, he was squirming so much, trying to urge his parents to follow him upstairs. With a look over his shoulder, John gave in and took his son up the stairs, to the bedroom Dean shared with little Sam. Mary stayed downstairs, after a small nod from her husband, assuring her that he would handle whatever it was that was going on with their sons.

When he opened the door to the bedroom, he almost let go of Dean, dropping him on the floor. Luckily, it was only almost; he carefully put the boy down and then walked over to Sam’s crib. The six months old baby was laying on his back, eyes wide open and looking up at the ceiling. Or rather, at the blocks floating through the air above his head.

John couldn’t suppress a silent curse as he stood in shock for a few moments. Then, Dean’s voice got him out of his trance-like state.

“Dad? What are you doing? Don’t you see what Sammy’s done? What is wrong with him?”

John took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face. He turned to his oldest son and could barely keep his voice from shaking when he said, “Dean, can you please get Mom? Be careful on the stairs, okay?”

Dean turned around immediately, apparently not noticing his father’s distress, and returned half a minute later with Mary right behind him.

“John, what- Oh,” Mary went silent when she saw what her husband was staring at. But her voice made John somewhat come to his senses more, and he stepped forward, until he was right beside the crib. Sam was still not aware of all the people that were watching him. As John reached down to lift his baby son out of the bed, he froze in his movement when his eyes crossed Sam’s. They had a golden glare in them, and it did _not_ seem natural _at all_.

Suddenly, the color disappeared from Sam’s eyes, and immediately, the blocks dropped down, clattering on the floor and on the edges of the crib. John startled, and then grabbed his son out of the bed. He turned around to his wife and Dean and urged them out of the room. Together, they went downstairs, where Mary took Dean to the kitchen for a glass of water as John took Sam to the living room. He sat down on the couch with Sam still in his arms, no idea what to do next.

He got pulled out of his thoughts when the couch sank down under the added weight of Dean sitting down next to him.

“Daddy? What’s wrong with Sammy? Do you know?” he asked innocently, and John didn’t know how to answer. Helplessly, he looked up at Mary, who had followed Dean from the kitchen, and when their eyes locked, Mary smiled.

“Take Dean back to his bed. I’ll keep Sammy here, safe.” Glad there was at least something that sounded like a plan – as far as that could count as a plan – John sighed and handed Sam to his wife. He took Dean by the hand and they went back upstairs, while Mary sat down on the couch with her son in her arms, shushing him when she saw he was about to cry.

“Come on Dean, get back in bed. Tomorrow we’ll deal with this. Now just get some sleep. Tomorrow’s an important day, remember?” Dean’s eyes lit up when he remembered the next day was weekend and they had a trip to the fair planned. With a smile all across his face, he got in his bed and stayed still, trying his very best to fall asleep as fast as he could.

John smiled at him and softly closed the door, knowing Sam would sleep in his and Mary’s bedroom that night. Maybe it would do Dean good to sleep alone for a night, not having to worry about his baby brother waking him up. He was still smiling about that as he descended the stairs, but then the smile was wiped off his face fast.

“John! Help! JOHN!” Mary’s screaming voice ripped the silence in the house apart – he’d still be able to hear it in his dreams many years later – and he jumped down the last few steps in one leap. Before his eyes told him anything, he could smell it; the smoke coming from under the living room door indicated a big fire. How the hell did he miss that? Cursing, he pushed the door open. Immediately, a wave of heath slapped him in the face, and he took a small step backwards from the impact and the shock before entering the room. It was so much worse than he had thought. It was like the fire had erupted in the whole room at once, instead of starting in one place and spreading from there. Any Mary was standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by flames she couldn’t seem to escape.

“Mary! What- What is happening? How did this happen?” John couldn’t help but ask the question, his mind screaming at him that that was not important right now. He tried to run over at his wife, who was holding their baby son in her arms, holding him close to her chest, but the flames wouldn’t let him get close to her. All she could to is reach over as far as she could and push Sam in his arms.

“Take him outside! Get Dean! Get out of here as fast as you can!” The panic was audible in her voice, and it broke John’s heart in a thousand pieces. But the mention of Dean got through to him, and he turned around with Sam in his arms, after a look at his wife. Just when he was about to leave what was left of the room, Mary called out to him again.

“John! Be careful with Sammy! I was just holding him, and… I think he started this. I-,” Her words got cut of when there was a sudden wave of oxygen in the room, stirring up the fire. John’s screams for his wife got lost in the noise the collapsing ceiling caused.

“Dean! DEAN! NO!” His room was just above the living room. Oh no, oh no. John shielded Sam’s head from the heat and went to run up the stairs, but then Dean appeared in front of him, in his pajamas and with a frightened look on his face. A sigh of relieve escaped John and he took his oldest son by the hand, dragging him out of the burning house as fast as possible. Just as they left through the remainders of the hallway, out the front door, the fire reached the rest of the house, eating away the flammable insulation in the roof.

“Mary…” John’s voice was no more than a whisper when the whole house collapsed while they watched. He squeezed Dean’s hand, trying and failing miserably to comfort him as the tears streamed down his oldest son’s face, while he looked down at Sammy in his arms. He couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about the last thing Mary had said to him.

How had this happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://sam4587.tumblr.com/) for updates!


	2. Chapter 1 - Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to the actual start of the story! From here on, chapters are a little longer (though not very much, I’ll be honest, it comes as it comes…) I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is titled after the song [“Magic”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qtb11P1FWnc) by Coldplay.

_Four years later_

“Sam! Stop that! You know dad doesn’t like it when you do that!” Dean closes the door of the motel room behind him and drops the bags from the grocery store on the wobbly table. Sam visibly startles when he hears his brother’s voice and a plate drops to the floor. It breaks with a lot of noise and Dean cringes at the sound. Sam looks up at his brother and pouts.

“Why can’t I just use it? It’s no use to have it if I still just have to do everything with my hands!”

Dean sighs and kneels down in front of the four-year-old. “You can’t use it, because dad says you can’t. That should be enough for you, okay? Now, take a broom and clean up this mess you made, before he gets back from the police station. Hurry up!”

Sam frowns, but goes to silently clean up the remainders of the plate. After he drops everything in the trash can underneath the sink in their tiny kitchen, he sits down on the couch with his arms crossed and an expression on his face that clearly shows he’s not pleased with the situation.

Dean sighs again and starts unloading the few groceries he bought in the store. The cereal and the cookies go in the cabinet, the bottles of water in the fridge. Unfortunately for John, Dean doesn’t yet have the length to make any cashier think he’s old enough to purchase alcohol. Dean is sure he’ll have taken care of that himself, though.

When he’s done, he shoots a look over at his brother on the other side of the small motel room. Sam has turned on the TV, but he’s still sitting in the exact same position as when he dropped down, and Dean is sure the remote was on the TV, not on the couch. He walks over to Sam and sits down next to him.

“Sam. Sam, look at me. Look at me,” he urges, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Sam unwillingly tears his eyes away from the television to look at his brother. “You have to listen to me when I say you can’t use those… powers.” He hesitates before saying the last word, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam.

“Why?” His tone is almost offensive. No, Dean realizes, _de_ fensive.

“I’ve told you a million times. You can’t use your powers, because dad doesn’t want you to. Do I need to keep repeating myself to you, or can you get it into that thick skull of yours yourself?” He’s getting irritated. He needs to get out of there. Dean stands up from the couch, looking away from Sam, who’s squinting at him, and walks to the door again, picking up his jacket on the way out. When he turns around at the door, Sam is watching the television again. The remote floats through the air in front of him. Dean pulls the door shut behind him without saying anything else.

With his head down, he walks through the parking lot. He doesn’t leave the site of the motel; he can’t go too far without having a good reason. When he finds some stairs in a dark corner near the end of the parking lot, he sits down with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

Why can’t Sam just understand that he can’t use his powers? He just puts every one of them in unnecessary danger. Just like when- no, don’t think about that. John doesn’t like to be reminded of that. It’s already bad enough that he’s reminded every time he lays eyes on Sam. He’s never said that explicitly to Dean, but Dean can read it on his face every time they’re all in the same room together. Even after four years, John still can’t look at his youngest son without the blame and the guilt and the regret visible in his eyes. So Dean takes Sam outside whenever he can. He does everything in his power to keep the two of them separated, even if that means that he has to ignore John’s orders sometimes.

Dean is so lost in his thoughts that it takes him a minute to recognize the rumble of the motor of the Impala. But when he hears the doors squeaking, he quickly gets up and goes back to the motel room. He has just closed the door behind him when he hears John on the front porch.

“Sam!” he whispers. “Dad’s here! Remember what I said this time, will you?” Sam doesn’t even look up from the television screen. The only way Dean can tell his brother heard him is because he shortly moves one of his shoulders an inch up. Well, at least he heard the message. Now just hope he also got it.

“Dad! Did you get anything? Was-,” Dean stops halfway through his sentence when he sees the expression on John’s face. No, he didn’t get anything, judging from that look. John puts a plastic bag on the table – Dean can hear the glass bottles clanking against each other – and sits down on one of the chairs.

“Nothing. It was just some crazy psychopath, nothing of use for us and our… problem.” Dean notices the hesitation, but doesn’t address it.

“So… nothing… ehm… What would you like for dinner?” He asks, hoping the sudden change of subject will distract his father. John looks up from the spot on the table he was intensely staring at and something changes in his face.

“Dean, I’ll make us something. You don’t have to do that. That’s not your job.” Before Dean can argue with that – not very true – statement, John picks up a phone and dials a local pizza place. When the call ends, he says: “Well, pizza for dinner.” He opens a beer and takes a long swig. He sighs and then seems to remember something. “I got a name at the station, though. Missouri Moseley. They mentioned her briefly. They said she could give us some advice, ‘cause she’s a specialist or something. I don’t know. Anyway, we’re leaving tomorrow. She’s two states over, and there’s nothing keeping us here anymore.”

Dean nods at his dad and then walks over to the couch, where Sam is still watching the television. John hasn’t even looked at the kid yet, but that’s standard practice by now. He pats his brother on the shoulder and when Sam turns to him, he says, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, if you didn’t hear, so start packing your bags. Make sure you have everything. And use your hands,” he adds whispering, so that John doesn’t hear those last words. Sam squints at him again and huffs before he gets up and disappears in the room he and Dean share to start packing their bags. Dean watches the four-year-old as he closes the door and then returns to sit beside his father at the table, waiting for their dinner to be delivered.

-*-*-*-

The next morning, Sam can’t get out of his bed, no matter how hard Dean pushes him. The kid just won’t get up.

“Sam! Get OUT of your bed, dad is gonna be pissed! We have to leave, and you’re making him wait again, and you know how he gets when he’s annoyed. Get OUT of the bed, or I’ll have to drag you out!” He shouldn’t be so mean, but if it helps to get Sam to get up, then he’ll have to.

“Dean? What… Ugh.” Sam’s tiny voice comes from under the sheets, still sleep-drunk, and he pulls the sheets closer over his head. But Dean won’t have that; he takes the sheets and tears them off the bed, leaving Sam shivering in the cold air suddenly flowing over his body. He hugs his arms around his own chest in a desperate attempt to get a little warmer again, but it doesn’t do any good, so he sits up and rubs his hands in his eyes.

“Here. Put these on and then come eat breakfast,” Dean says, as he throws a shirt and a pair of pants in Sam’s direction. They fall on the floor in front of him, Sam not moving to do anything to catch them. With a soft groan that gives away his sleepiness, he bends down and puts the clothes on, along with his shoes. He gathers the rest of his stuff and comes out of the bedroom dragging his duffel bag over the floor behind him, the thing way too heavy for the little boy to lift up. With a grunt, he sets it down nest to the door, and then sits down at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him. He mutters a soft “Good morning” to his dad, but doesn’t look him in the eyes.

As soon as Sam’s bowl is empty, John gets up from the table and urges them to get in the car. Dean helps Sam lift the bags in the trunk – Dean does most of the work, obviously, because John is around, so Sam can’t help – while John cleans the remaining dishes and cleans the room a little. When he opens the trash can to take the bag outside, he sees the shards of the plate, and immediately connects the dots. So, he’ll have to have another talk with his youngest son. The kid doesn’t seem to learn. At least in the car, he can keep an eye on him. And he has no choice but to listen to him.

-*-*-*-

The drive is a long and exhausting one. Especially because the mood in the car is not exactly the best. After they have driven about an hour or two, John addresses Sam about the broken plate in the garbage, and it causes the boy to be cranky the rest of the drive. Dean is sitting next to him in the back seat – he insisted on it himself – and tries to talk to Sam to distract him, but it doesn’t do any good; Sam can’t stop hearing all the things his dad threw at his head.

“Sam, this is the last time I’m telling you that you need to stop using those powers. They’re dangerous, and you’ll get hurt, or worse, you’ll hurt someone else, and then you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand me?” When Sam only nods his head in response, John loses his temper a little. “Speak to me! At least have the courtesy to address me properly!” He raises his voice and the car ends up on the wrong side of the road for a split second. He corrects his mistake fast enough to avoid collision with another car, but the shock doesn’t exactly do any good for his temper, and the tension in the car raises to an almost unbearable level as Sam quietly says: “Yes, sir, I understand.”

John nods firmly and the rest of the drive, none of them say anything. When John looks in the rearview mirror, he sees that Sam and Dean’s hands are entwined in between them. By the time he stops at the motel they’re staying at that night, both of the boys are listening to Dean’s music through shared headphones. He silently wishes Mary could see them like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](https://sam4587.tumblr.com/) with your thoughts, or leave a comment below! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 2 - Road to Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This is titled after "[Road to Nowhere](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFSgYa8YfWk%E2%80%9D)" by Ozzy Osbourne.

A little after noon, they arrive in Lawrence, Kansas. The GPS quickly guides them to the right place, through all the streets John used to know so well. He hasn’t been back here since… well, since that night, and he would give a lot to not have to return at all. To him, the fact that he’s back proves the graveness of the situation.

Dean looks out of the window in wonder. He doesn’t recognize anything, but his dad told him where they were going, so he knows he’s back in the place they used to live before they started living in motel rooms. That alone is enough for him to try to take in as much as he can.

Sam just sits in the back seat and looks out of the window at the passing houses and streets with the same look he watches all the towns and cities they pass. He was six months old when they left this place; he doesn’t even realize he used to live here.

When they reach Ms. Moseley’s house, John tells them to get out of the car and they walk up to the front door, all their stuff still in the car. He rings the bell and after only a short while, a friendly-looking lady opens the door for them.

“Hello, my name is John Winchester. We spoke on the phone, if you recall that? These are my sons, Dean and Sam.” He vaguely gestures in the brothers’ direction and then shakes Ms. Moseley’s hand. She smiles warmly and invites them in.

“Yes, I remember you, dear. Please come in. My name is Missouri Moseley, but please call me Missouri. I believe we have a lot to talk about. Would you like some coffee, perhaps?” She asks. When John nods his response, she turns to the boys. “Would you boys like some hot cocoa? And some homemade cookies, perhaps? I just baked them this morning!” The eager smiles of the brothers tell her all she needs to know, and while they sit down on the soft couch, she goes into the kitchen to grab them their treats. Missouri returns with a plate that she sets down in front of them.

“There you go. Now, tell me what is going on. You seemed a little distressed on the phone, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me John, please. And yes, I am. I was directed to you, because you would be able to help us with a… problem we’re having.” John glances briefly over to Sam, who’s sipping his hot cocoa with the most satisfied look on his face, like he’s drinking the best cocoa he’s ever had. Missouri follows his look and connects a few dots in her mind.

“Would you like us to speak in private? We can move to my office, if you’d prefer that.” Judging from the look on her visitor’s face, she made the right call. She leans over to the boys and whispers, like it’s a secret between her and them: “You boys stay here for a little while, okay? Daddy and I need to talk for a while. If you’re done with the cookies and the drinks, you can take some of the toys from that cabinet over there. I’m sure you’ll find something to do,” she winks, and then she and John leave the living room. When they reach the office on the other side of the hallway, she gestures to him to sit down and takes a seat across from him. “Now, tell me what’s going on with you. And don’t you leave anything out.”

Her tone doesn’t give John much choice, so he starts telling her why he dragged his sons all the way over here in a day and a half.

“It’s my youngest son, Sam. He… has this… ability… well, more like a curse, really. Basically, he can… move things… with his mind. At least, that’s what I’ve seen him do. Who knows what else he’s capable of. All I know is that the first time it happened – the first time we noticed it happening, that is – was when he was six months old. And that same night, our house burned down to the ground, and with it my wife, Mary. I’ve been driving around the country ever since, trying to find someone who can cure him. Someone who can take this curse away from him. I-” Missouri interrupts him before he can continue.

“Why do you refer to it as a curse?” she simply asks, and that takes John aback a little.

“I- Because… because the last thing Mary said before the ceiling collapsed on top of her head, was that Sam started the fire that killed her. Dean doesn’t know that yet, and neither does Sam. But every time I look at Sam, I get reminded of those words. There’s nothing good that can come from this, so we need to get rid of it. There has to be something we can do. I was referred to you because you were supposed to be a specialist or something, so I’m asking you: can you help us, or not?”

“Tone it down a little bit there. You’re still in my house. The story you’re telling me sounds like it’s in my wheelhouse, but I’ll have to talk to Sam to know for sure what it is. I can tell you this, though: no matter what it is, there’s no way that it is inherently bad. The only way something becomes bad, is if it’s used for bad.” She doesn’t accept John’s protests, and just gets up. “Now, let me talk to Sam. You go wait with Dean in the meantime.” She doesn’t leave John a choice as she leads the way back to the living room, where the two boys are playing with some of the toys they found in Missouri’s cabinet.

“Sam, honey, would you come with me for a second, please? I got something I need to ask you.” Sam and Dean both look up and get up from the ground. The only reason Dean doesn’t follow Sam into the office, is because John is there to keep him from doing that. Missouri can’t help but notice that the small boy looks back to his brother for comfort instead of his father. Hmm.

“So, Sam, you sit down on the chair over there, please.” She points at the chair John just left and takes her own seat again, smiling comfortingly at the little boy in front of her. He seems to try to make himself as small as possible on the chair, with his hands cramped underneath him.

“Why am I here? Did I do something wrong? Is Dad angry with me again?” His quiet voice is barely audible, despite the silence in the small office. Missouri smiles again and leans forward to pat Sam on his knee.

“No, there’s nothing wrong. I just want to talk to you. And maybe you can show me some things, help me understand some things a little better. Is that okay for you?”

Sam seems to relax at the sound of her friendly voice and his muscles tense a little less. “Okay. What do you want to ask me? I hope I can help you with your problem.” He seems genuinely willing to try to help her in any way possible. Missouri almost feels herself melting at the sweetness of the boy.

“I just got one question for you for now. Would you please give me that pencil on the desk over there?” When Sam gets up to do as she asks, she adds: “No, that’s not what I mean. Do it without getting up from your chair, please.” Sam’s eyes widen when he realizes what she means and then he slowly sits back down in his chair. He focuses on the pencil and after a small, almost unnoticeable move from his head, his eyes glow gold and the pencil drifts through the air, stopping in front of Missouri. When she sticks her hand out, the pencil softly drops in the palm, and she closes her fingers around it.

She hears a soft sigh coming from Sam’s direction, and when she looks up, she sees his eyes sparkle a little. That doesn’t last long, though; his expression quickly changes to something she can only describe as distress. To comfort the boy, she smiles and says: “Thank you, that helped a lot. Now, I got one more question for you. What did you feel when you were doing that just now? Be honest with me, nothing sounds too weird ,” she winks.

Sam gets a confused look on his face. “I… I don’t know. It feels… I don’t know,” he softly concludes. Missouri reaches over and takes his hands.

“Hey, that’s okay, honey. I understand. Let me ask you another way. Do you feel like you have to try very hard, or does it just happen?”

This, he can answer. That’s a question his four-year-old brain can handle a little easier. “It happens. I don’t have to do anything! And I could always do it. I mean, I think it was there when I was a little baby. When Mom was still with us.” His face drops a little by the mention of his mom, when he realizes he’s never really met her. Missouri immediately picks up on that.

“Do you miss your mom?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t remember her, I’ve only seen the pictures Dean showed me. Dad never talks about her. Dean doesn’t mention her either. But Dean takes good care of me, so that’s okay.” He smiles softly, as if he wants to assure Missouri that he’s good.

“Okay, honey, I think it’s time to go back to your dad and brother then. You’ve helped me a lot,” she says, dropping the subject of Mary. She gets up and offers her hand to Sam, who jumps off of the chair and takes her hand as they walk back to the living room. There, Sam goes immediately back to playing besides his brother, and Missouri points John to the kitchen, where she starts rinsing the mugs from the coffee and hot cocoa while talking privately with the man.

“Sam’s magic is not a threat. He can control it perfectly, and if you let him, he’ll be able to use it for good things. If you keep telling him it’s a bad thing, though, you’ll do more damage than you can now anticipate.” After that warning, she looks up at John. She only just met the man, but she can already tell what he’s going to say next.

“It’s not a danger to you, maybe, but it was to Mary. Do you have any idea how to get rid of it?”

Well, that’s exactly what she thought he was going to say. “You can’t. You can’t get rid of it, because he’s born with it, and he’ll die with it. It’s a gift, John. Not a curse. For the sake of your son, of both of your sons, don’t treat it like a curse. Sam’s a sorcerer; it’s his nature. There are very few people who have been given what he has, so he should learn to use it. With what he can do now, he can get far, but with the proper education and teaching, he can do even more. If you-,”

John cuts her off before she can continue. “Okay, enough. Thank you for your help, but if that’s all you have to offer me, I think we’ll be on our way again.” He turns around and calls for his sons. They respond immediately, and they are halfway through the door when Missouri appears from the kitchen and takes Sam’s hand. She kneels down in front of him and looks him in the eyes.

“Sam, honey, the magic you’ve been given is an incredible gift. Don’t just throw it away because your dad tells you to, okay? If you ever need anything, my door will be open for you.” She squeezes his hands and then John drags him out of the house, into the car, with Dean following close behind. As the car drives away, Missouri can see the two boys watching her through the windows. John refuses to look back and steers the car away without having said another word to the woman.

Sam’s head spins from all the things the nice lady said to him. Unconsciously, he reaches for Dean’s hand, and his brother takes it. Seeing that as an encouragement, Sam leans forward and addresses his dad.

“Dad? What is going to happen now? Are we going to live in a normal house now? Can I use my magic? The lady called it a gift!” His hope is short-lived when John answers him.

“No. We’re not going to stop looking for a cure. There will be other people who can help us, instead of some lady with her head halfway in the clouds. You’re not allowed to do anything differently. Do you understand me?” He looks his son in the eyes through the rearview mirror to emphasize his words. He sees Sam jerk his hand away from Dean and turn to look out the window. He mutters something that John can’t quite make out.

“What did you say? Speak up, I can’t understand what you’re saying when you’re not speaking clearly.”

“I said, yes, sir!” That’s not what he said. “I understand!” Sam refuses to say another word after that, and John just drives the car down the road, on their way to a new motel, and maybe new answers too. Or different ones. As long as they confirm his beliefs, instead of telling him things he doesn’t want to hear.

Dean hears their conversation and feels Sammy pull away his hand. Helpless, unable to help his baby brother, he stares out the window, trying very hard to hold back the tears that are burning in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me again on [Tumblr](https://sam4587.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 3 - Moment of Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome back! I hope you're still enjoying this :-)
> 
> This chapter is titled after "[Moment of Surrender](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_yU8Y-ruHg)" by U2. (Thank you, Esther, for the suggestion ;-) )

_Four years later_

The second Sam steps out of the classroom, he knows he’s in trouble. With one look down the hallway, he can see that there is no escaping it this time; they’ve got him cornered, with no way out. And of course they’ve chosen right this moment, when there are no teachers in sight at all. In a desperate attempt to get away, he turns his eyes to the floor, presses his backpack against him and starts walking towards the doors leading outside. Of course, it’s no good.

“Hey, Sam! Where do you think you’re going? Don’t just run away from us! Or are you going to your big brother to ask him to protect you again?” The older boy’s voice makes Sam speed up his pace, but he feels a hand on his arm that stops him from going any further. “I’m talking to you, Sammy. Where are you going?”

Sam pulls his arm out of the boy’s grip and looks up. “Home. I’m going home, so that I can make my homework.”

“Home?” The boy scoffs and looks around the gathered circle of other kids. “He’s going home, he says!” He turns back to Sam, who still doesn’t look the boy in the eyes. “You don’t have a home, Sammy. You sleep in the motel outside town. I’ve seen you there. With your dad and your big brother to protect you all the time. But they’re not here now, are they?” He asks with a vicious smile on his face.

Sam sighs and looks at the surrounding kids. That was a mistake. The second he stops looking in the boy’s direction, he feels his bag being pulled out of his hands and in surprise, he moves with it, not letting go. He gets pulled towards the boy, and before he can gather himself, he’s pushed hard. He falls on the floor and groans a little from the impact.

“What’s the matter? Can’t you take care of yourself? Do you always need your big brother here with you?”

Okay, now he’s had it. If the kid brings up Dean one more time, he’s gonna lose it. Sam feels his hands tighten to fists and his muscles tense. The boy – Dick? Dirk! – stands over him and notices it too.

“Ooh, you’re gonna defend yourself! Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” He looks away from Sam and around the growing crowd around them. Sam looks at the kids too and can’t help but think that this is a great audience to teach Dirk a lesson. So, he does.

Still lying on the floor, he scans the hallway and finds a table right next to him, against the wall. Before Dirk can react, he gets up and stands in front of the table, with his fists in the air and his face determined. All he has to do is get the kid close enough to him.

And his tactic works. When he sees the resistance, Dirk scoffs again and walks over to Sam, until they’re practically nose-to-nose. “What are you doing? Do you think that table is going to protect you, now that your brother isn’t here?”

See, now he mentioned Dean _again_. Sam flashes him a little smile, and then, only for Dirk to see, his eyes flash gold and the mug standing on the table flies to Dirks head. The boy just has time to widen his eyes in surprise before the mug hits him – hard – on his forehead and he stumbles backwards, his hands pressed against the bleeding wound. A collective gasp goes through the crowd, and then some dumb kid starts applauding. Like sheep, the rest follows, and before Sam knows what’s happening, he gets patted on the shoulder by the very same people that were laughing at _him_ only seconds before. He shakes them off and bows down to Dirk, who’s still lying on the ground, whimpering and shaking.

“Leave me alone. I can take care of myself. And shut your mouth about anything you saw.” He whispers softly, so only Dirk can hear him. The boy nods passively and Sam gets up, takes his bag and walks out of the door. At the entrance, the Impala is waiting for him, ready to go back to their motel. When he gets in the car, he gets a strange look from his dad, but he doesn’t say anything and just looks out of the window. The second Dean gets in the car, his hair a little wild and his shirt only halfway in his jeans, they leave.

-*-*-*-

When Sam gets to school the next day, he’s greeted all around, by kids he’s never even spoken to. Dean can’t hide his surprise at seeing his little eight-year-old brother called by name by kids his own age, but when he asks Sam what’s going on, all he gets is a shrug and a grunt. Sam doesn’t say anything to his brother until they part to go to their respective classes, and then the only thing Dean gets is a “I’ll see you tonight” between Sam’s teeth. Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise, but Sam disappears into the classroom before Dean can stop him.

For the first time since they arrived in this town two weeks ago, Sam doesn’t have to sit alone at a table. Another boy asks him if he can sit next to him, and then doesn’t wait for an answer to sit down.

“Hey, I saw what you did yesterday. That was very cool. How did you throw that mug? I didn’t even see you move!”

Sam shifts uncomfortable and mumbles something. It’s been drilled into him enough by his dad to know that he can’t tell anyone about his powers. Their visit to Missouri a few years back hasn’t changed anything about that. Luckily for him, the teacher starts the class and he’s spared from having to answer any more questions from the boy.

The rest of the day, the boy – Barry, apparently – stays by Sam’s side and they get to know each other. Sam is careful not to let his walls down too far, but he enjoys the company nonetheless and he finds himself smiling more often than he did in the past two weeks combined. They trade stories and Barry is incredibly interested in Sam’s life on the road, even though Sam assures him there’s nothing fun or interesting about it.

He only runs into Dirk once. When he sees the bruise on the boy’s forehead, he can’t help but be pleased with himself a little bit, thinking about all the bruises the kid gave _him_ the past weeks. He smiles friendly at Dirk, and his former bully shies away immediately, turning his back and walking the other way as fast as he can. Barry gives him an impressed look, but Sam just shrugs and feels bad afterwards. He can’t get the thought out of his head that he had used something his dad has told him is bad to hurt someone else. Maybe his magic is bad after all, just like his dad has been telling him and despite what Missouri has said to him in her hallway, on their way out?

The thoughts dampen his mood for the day a little, but he succeeds at hiding them and when the bell sounds to indicate the end of the day, he and Barry part with smiles. As he gets into the Impala, he can’t help but think he’d love to come back tomorrow, if only to see Barry again.

-*-*-*-

“What?! No! We can’t leave yet! We’ve only been here two weeks!” Sam stands in the middle of their small motel room with his hands balled to fists. He’s facing his father, who’s standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and a determined look on his face.

“Yes, we are. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and you don’t have anything to say about that. We’re done here, there’s nothing more keeping us in this shitplace, so we’re moving on.”

“But… But I have an important test tomorrow! And-”

John cuts his son off before he can continue. “Your test is not that important. Just take it at your next school. All that stuff is the same anyway. We’re leaving, so stop arguing and start packing your bags. We’re not waiting for you again tomorrow morning.”

Sam huffs and goes to the bedroom he’s sharing with Dean. He slams the door behind him and sits down on his bed, with his arms crossed and his gaze turned to the floor. After a few minutes, the door opens and his brother comes in. Dean hops on his own bed and after a short silence, he starts talking.

“Sammy, if you continue looking at the floor like that, you’re gonna burn a hole in it before you know what’s happening.”

Sam looks up and turns his gaze to his brother. He squints his eyes, but can’t help the little smile creeping on his lips either. The second he notices it, he turns his eyes away from Dean, trying to keep his appearance of angry little brother up. Dean sees right through it, of course, because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be his brother.

“Sammy, I know you like it here. It’s a little suddenly, because only two days ago, you asked when we would finally be leaving, but I get that things have changed. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, you’ll have to leave it behind, because dad won’t be convinced to stay. You know that by now, right?”

Sam nods in answer. Yes, he knows. Dad won’t be convinced to stay, because once he has decided they’re moving on, both boys have no other choice but to follow him. That doesn’t mean he can’t try, though.

“But, Dean, I was just getting… I was just getting used to this school. Dirk was-” He cuts his own words off, unsure if Dean will approve of the way he handled Dirk the day before.

“What? What did he do this time? Was that why you were so quiet yesterday? Did he get you again? Dammit, Sammy, you have to tell me when that happens, so I can take care of him!” Dean gets agitated and gets up halfway off the bed when Sam stops him.

“I took care of it myself, Dean. I don’t need you all the time to solve my problems for me.”

“You took care of it yourself? How-” Sam can see the realization manifest on Dean’s face. “Did you use your powers? Dammit, Sam! You know you can’t do that! It’s dangerous! What if something goes wrong? Or if someone were to find out about them? You know Dad doesn’t want that!”

This time, Sam jumps up from his bed. “I know Dad doesn’t want me to use my magic! He doesn’t want _me_! But-” Sam stops talking once he realizes he’s screaming at Dean, and he sinks down on his bed again, with his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He shakes with the tears he’s trying desperately to hold back. He doesn’t really succeed.

The bed sinks down next to him under the added weight of Dean. His big brother slips his arm around his shoulder and pulls him against his side. They just sit there for a little while, until Sam calms down and takes a deep breath.

“Sammy, Dad is just trying to protect you. And us. Of course he wants you, you’re his son. But you have to listen to him when he tells you not to use your powers. If you can do that, maybe he’ll see that they aren’t that bad.”

Sam lifts his head up and looks at his brother next to him. “You don’t think they’re bad? You don’t think I’m bad? You don’t think I’m a monster?”

Dean shrugs and smiles faintly. “No, I _know_ they’re not bad. Because it’s you. And I know you. _You’re_ not bad. _You’re_ not a _monster_. You just… have to realize that… Dad doesn’t see it that way, because…” Dean doesn’t finish his sentence. Sam looks at him and squints.

“Why? Is there a reason Dad doesn’t want me to use them? Did something happen? I thought he just hated them, for… for…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. He just never thought about _why_ his dad puts so much effort in getting rid of his magic. It’s just a given that he does. It’s just how it is. He has a reason? “Dean?” He asks quietly.

Dean shakes his head, clearly struggling with something. “Nothing, Sammy. Just… pack your bags, okay? Make sure you have everything ready to leave tomorrow.”

Sam watches speechless as his brother hurries out of the room. What is he hiding? But as good as Dean knows Sam, Sam knows Dean, so he realizes he won’t get any more information out of his brother. With a sigh, he starts gathering his clothes and school supplies, getting ready to move to yet another motel in yet another town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! Find me on [Tumblr](https://sam4587.tumblr.com/), as usual.


	5. Chapter 4 - Drag Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is most definitely named after “[Drag Me Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwgf3wmiA04)” by One Direction, no shame. Enjoy!

_One year later_

“Come in! The door is open! And leave your shoes at the door!”

A woman’s voice comes from somewhere in the house when John rings the doorbell. He pushes the door open and leads Sam and Dean inside, nodding when they go to take their shoes off, like the woman asked. When they enter what appears to be the living room – there’s a couch, a tv and the walls are covered in book shelves – they get a face to go with the voice; a middle-aged woman with dark blonde hair is standing in front of them, with a screwdriver in her right hand and smears of tar on her forehead.

“Hello! You must be John. And you two must be Dean and Sam.” She adds, kneeling down in front of the boys. Sam smiles shyly while Dean answers her.

“Yes, I’m Dean, that’s Sam. Who are you?”

“Dean! Watch your mouth, be polite.” John reprimands his son immediately and holds his hand out to the woman. “You must be Ellen. Bobby has talked about you. Nice to finally meet you.”

The woman – Ellen – takes John’s hand and shakes it briefly, before turning back to the boys. “Would you like something to eat? It’s late in the afternoon, and you two look like you could use some pie. What do you think?”

Dean’s eyes light up and he nods vigorously. Sam just smiles again, and Ellen turns around. Without looking at John, she says: “Bobby’ll be here any minute. He’s out in the yard somewhere, but he knows you were coming, so he’s probably on his way. Sit down, I’ll fetch you something to drink and eat as well.” Without waiting for an answer she disappears into the kitchen, and after some moments of clattering, she comes back out with beer for John, and pie for the brothers. Dean and Sam immediately start eating, while Ellen watches them with a soft smile on her face.

“John Winchester. I had not expected to see you ever again.” A man’s voice attracts all of their attention to the doorway, and John rises up from the couch he sat down on.

“Robert Singer. It’s been too long. How are you doing? Is the retired life treating you well?”

The man scoffs and continues wiping his hands on a cloth. “As you can see, I’m not exactly sitting on my ass. I may have retired from the army, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not doing anything with my life. What brings you here?”

“I’m working a job in the neighborhood. I was hoping you’d be willing to take care of my boys for a little while. You still cool with that?”

Bobby turns to the brothers, who have both stopped eating and are looking at him with identical big eyes. Dean doesn’t look away from him, but Sam looks down at his plate the second his eyes cross Bobby’s. “Like I told you on the phone, they can stay here as long as you need them to. I think they’ll get along with Jo just fine, when she comes back from school.” He nods at Dean – Sam is still looking at his plate like it’s the most interesting object present in the room – and then turns back to John. “You want to tell me what this job is you have?”

John’s eyes flick over to his sons and he gestures to the hallway with his head. Understanding his intention, Bobby goes into his office, with John following right behind him.

When the two men have left the room, Ellen stands up and claps herself on the thighs. “So! You done with that pie, boys? Come on, I’ll show you your rooms, then.” She gets up and takes their plates. Sam opens his mouth for the first time since they arrived.

“Rooms? Do we each get our own room?” The awe in his voice makes Ellen laugh, and after she sets the plates down on the countertop, she waves at them to follow her upstairs.

“This is yours, Sam,” she says as she opens the first door they pass by. Sam enters his room – _his_ room – and looks around with his mouth open. He lets the duffel bag he had hanging on his shoulder fall on the ground and carefully sits down on the bed. The mattress sinks down and with a sigh, he lies down on his back. For the first time since they arrived at this strange house, he is able to relax his body.

-*-*-*-

A knock on the door keeps him from dozing off. With a small groan, he sits up and asks “Yes?” at whoever is standing in front of the door. Dean pushes the door open and comes in with a gigantic smile on his face.

“Hiya, Sammy! Is your room as awesome as mine?” After a look around, he answers his own question. “It is! Isn’t this nice?” Without asking, he sits down next to Sam on the bed, still with a smile all over his face. Sam smiles back at him and takes another good look around the bedroom.

There’s a desk with a chair, a bed, a closet. That’s it, but it’s the biggest room he’s ever had to himself. In all the countless motels they’ve stayed in, they were lucky if their room was separated from the one John was sleeping in. And if it was separated, the brothers still had to sleep together. This is the first time he’s ever had a room all for himself. Sam keeps repeating it in his head, because his nine-year-old brain has a hard time comprehending the fact.

“Yeah, Dean, this is very nice. But I don’t understand. Why do we have to stay here? Why can’t we just go with dad, like we always do?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. That’s just how it is this time. And Bobby and Ellen are nice people, according to dad. So we’ll just stay here a little while and then we can go back with dad, okay?” Dean smiles at his brother and ruffles through his hair. Sam slams his hand away halfheartedly and stands up to start unpacking his back. After a minute, he’s already done putting the few clothes he has in the closet, and with a last look at the room – wow, he can see the yard through the window, and it’s _big!_ – he follows Dean downstairs.

-*-*-*-

“Behave yourselves, you hear me, boys? I don’t want to hear any complaints from Bobby! I’ll be back as soon as I can.” John claps both his sons on the shoulder before walking back to the Impala.

“Are you sure you’re not staying for dinner?” Ellen yells after him, but John just shakes his head again, just like he did the first three times she asked that question, and gets his car. He raises his hand one last time and with roaring motor, he disappears down the road.

Ellen takes Sam and Dean by the shoulder and leads them inside. “Well, that just means there’ll be more for us, am I right? You two can go sit in the living room and watch some TV or something, and as soon as I get the sink to work again, I’ll make you something to eat. Jo should be back here any time now.” She picks up the screwdriver she put down and goes back to the kitchen. Sam sits down on the couch while Dean reaches for the remote and finds his favorite cartoon to watch. He takes out his sketch pad and a for a few moments, all that is audible in the room is his pencil scratching the paper and the voices from the TV. Sam gets bored of that soon and walks over to the many bookshelves against the wall. That’s more his cup of tea.

When the front door opens, they both startle. Sam looks up from the book he found and Dean’s pencil stops halfway through a motion.

“Mom! I’m back! And- who are you?” The girl that just came tumbling in with a lot of noise stops halfway through the doorway and looks at the boys on the couch in surprise. Ellen comes in from the kitchen and turns to the girl.

“Jo, these are Sam and Dean. They’re the sons of an old friend of Bobby’s. They’ll be staying with us for the next few days.” Jo turns to the brothers, who are still both looking at her without saying a word, and after a moment, she shrugs and nods.

“Okay. I’m Jo, nice to meet you. Mom, today at school, there was a fight, and we had the last period off!” Seemingly not interested anymore in the two unexpected guests, she turns back to her mom and continues to loudly tell her about the epic fight that took place earlier that day at school. Sam continues reading in his book, and Dean turns off the TV. He gets up and follows Ellen and Jo to the kitchen. Sam distinctly hears him ask Ellen if she needs any help with cooking. A small laugh escapes his lips as he pictures his big brother hanging around Jo. She seemed closer to his own age than to Dean’s. He’d love to see Ellen’s reaction.

When they’ve all left the room, he notices the notepad Dean left lying on the coffee table. After a quick look behind him, he uses his magic to fly the pad over to him, and he catches it carefully, in order to not make any stains. It’s a drawing of the cartoon Dean was watching; a dog with some people standing around him. Sam immediately recognizes Scooby and the gang. Dean has only finished the outlines, and Sam knows he’s not going to finish the rest of it, but he smiles nonetheless. With another look over his shoulder to ensure that nobody’s watching, he places the pad back on the table, in the same spot Dean left it. He hasn’t moved an inch from his position.

“Sam! You coming? Jo, go fetch Bobby from the yard. He’ll be hungry by now as well.” Ellen’s voice drags Sam back out of his book, and he walks over to the kitchen. If the smells are anything to go by, this is going to be delicious, he thinks. He also says that out loud to Ellen.

“Don’t say anything ‘till you’ve actually tasted it.” She warns him, but she winks at the same time, and Sam smiles while he sits down. This is already one of the best meals he’s had, and they haven’t even started eating yet.


	6. Chapter 5 - A Head Full of Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is named after “[A Head Full of Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGZMvV9KBp8)” by Coldplay.

“Dean? Do you know where Bobby is?”

Dean looks up from the sketch he’s making and looks at his brother. Sam is standing in the doorway, with a book in his hands and an asking look in his eyes. “I think… in the yard? With his cars, as usual?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that… again.” Sam turns around and goes to the backdoor, looking down at the book in his hands. He doesn’t notice Dean looking at him with a weird look on his face as he walks away without saying another word to his brother, just looking fascinated at the book.

“Bobby! Bobby?” As soon as Sam steps out of the door, he calls Bobby’s name. The yard is truly gigantic, and if he has to walk around to find Bobby, he won’t find him before dark.

“Yes? What?” Bobby’s head pops out from under a car, and he sits up. Sam walks over to him and shows him the book.

“Can you tell me what this book is? I found it in-” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence when Bobby stands up and takes the book from his hands.

“This is one of the books from my study. How did you get this?”

Sam looks at his feet, a little embarrassed. He murmurs something, inaudible for Bobby. When Bobby asks him to speak up, he raises his head and looks the man in his eyes. “I was looking for more books, because in the past three days since dad left, I read all the books in the living room. So I was looking for more, and I found that one. It has some really weird things in it, and…”

Bobby interrupts him again. “What do you mean, there are some weird things in this? Do you mean you can… you can read it?” The astonishment in his voice is unmistakable there, and Sam flinches a little. What did he do wrong this time?

“Y-yes?”

Bobby is quiet for a moment, and Sam looks at him. When he sees that Bobby doesn’t have an angry, but rather a curious expression on his face, he relaxes a little and finds the courage to ask him a question.

“Can’t you read it? It’s not that difficult. It took me some time at first, but now I can easily read all of it. I don’t understand what it says, though, that’s why I came to ask you.”

Bobby is still holding the book, and he stares at Sam for a second before answering. “I’ve never met anyone who could read this. I was actually planning on throwing it away, because it’s useless when no one knows what it says. How can _you_ read it?”

Sam swallows when he realizes what he’ll have to tell Bobby. His dad has told him not to show his magic to anyone, but if Bobby asks so specifically, what can he do but tell the man? “I… I-” He looks down at his feet and then clenches his fists. Talking won’t do any good. Determined, he lifts his head and looks around. Noticing Bobby’s tool box next to the car he was working on when he interrupted, he focuses. His eyes light up briefly and he feels the magic coursing through him, and then one of the screwdrivers floats slowly through the air, towards Bobby, who looks at it with wide open eyes. He steps backwards, and Sam immediately drops the screwdriver to the ground. This was a mistake. He closes his eyes and goes to turn around and start packing his bags. After that, Bobby’ll probably call his dad and they will have to leave. Again.

Before he is fully turned around to walk away, he feels Bobby’s hand on his arm, stopping him. He turns around and when he sees nothing even remotely close to anger or hate on the man’s face, he relaxes entirely and leans into the touch. Bobby smiles, which is a strange view on his face, but it puts Sam even more at ease.

“Stay here. What was that?” Bobby’s voice is still not soft, but definitely softer than usual. Sam looks down again briefly and then raises his head.

“That was me. I’m born with magic, but I can’t use it because of my dad. I never should’ve done it. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t call dad.”

“That’s not what I meant, boy. I didn’t mean you can’t use it; I want to know why you didn’t tell me earlier.”

“… Because I can’t use it? Because of my dad?” Sam hesitantly says.

“Well, that’s bullshit. If it’s a part of you, you should use it. I’ll tell Ellen and Jo, and as long as you’re here, you use that. It’ll make our lives easier if you can help with cooking that way.” Bobby winks and smiles again. Then, he waves the book. “Now, what exactly are those weird thing that are in here according to you?”

Sam’s face lights up and without thinking, he reaches for the book and takes it back from Bobby. He opens it and shows one of the first pages to him. “See this?” He points at some words, and when Bobby just shrugs, he continues. “It’s some kind of… recipe. Maybe guidelines for using my magic. I don’t really know. That’s why I came to you.”

Bobby squints at the page, but with the best will in the world, he can’t make anything of it. “If you say so. Have you tried any of it out?”

Sam gets a sheepish look on his face that tells Bobby all he needs to know.

“So, you have. What did it do?”

Sam looks away, up at the sky, down at the ground, anywhere but at Bobby. “I… It… lit the fire in the fireplace in your study… But I put it out again too! There’s no… damage.” He murmurs those last words and only when he hears Bobby laugh, he dares to look up. “I just said some of these words and then all of a sudden, there was a fire! It was an accident!”

“Sam, you don’t have to apologize to me! At least now we know for sure… I think it’s some kind of spell book. If you want, you can have it; you’re the only person who can read it anyway, so I doubt I’d get any money for it anywhere.”

Sam stares at Bobby for a moment before the words sink in. “I can have it? Really? I can use it? You won’t get mad?”

“I won’t. Better to develop those powers than not use them. Go ahead. Just… don’t burn the house down, please? Try to do most of it outside?”

Before Bobby is finished with his sentence, Sam is already nodding furiously. He can’t stop himself and jumps forward, catching Bobby in a tight hug. The man stiffens briefly before hugging him shortly back. After a while, Sam lets go and with the biggest smile on his face, he thanks Bobby again and again.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright, let it go. Now, will you let me get back to my work?”

Still smiling, Sam nods again and then he turns around, running back to the house. He needs to tell Dean about this.

-*-*-*-

“Sammy? Are you coming? Dinner is ready! Where are you?” Dean’s voice echoes through the yard, and Sam looks up from the book. Before he can do anything, Dean is in front of him, staring down at the papers scattered around on the ground. “What are you- What is this?”

“Dean,” Sam sighs. “I can explain. I-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, not actually knowing what to say.

Dean bows down and picks up one of the sheets of paper from the grass. Sam has retreated to the very back of the yard, where there are a few trees and some patches of grass. In the past few days, it’s become his favorite place to test out the various spells in the book he found.

When Dean sees what’s on the paper, he looks at his little brother and sits down on the grass across from him. He looks down at the paper in his hand again and then says, “What are you doing with my drawings? I threw them in the trash.”

“I… I know, that’s where I found them. I took them out. I…” Sam comes to a decision and leans forward to pick up the book and one of the drawings. “Look.”

He makes sure Dean is watching and then concentrates on the paper. He murmurs the words he reads from the book and the black pencil lines on the paper light up for a second. Then, Dean scatters backwards.

“Whoa! What did you do, Sammy?”

Sam smiles and hands Dean the paper. “It’s not dangerous. It’s still a drawing. I just… added some dimension to it.”

Dean takes the paper carefully from him and brings it closer to his face. It was a drawing he made when they first got here, when he was watching Scooby-Doo. But instead of the outlines of the Scooby-gang just sitting there on the paper, they’re moving. Like, actually walking across the paper and touching each other. It’s like he’s watching TV, but on paper. The sheet doesn’t move at all; if he wasn’t looking, he’d never know they were moving. But they are. With awe on his face, he looks at his little brother, who’s looking at him with a mix of pride and expectation.

“Sammy… This is amazing. Wow.” Dean can’t take his eyes off of the paper and Sam smiles contently.

“You can have it. The spell won’t wear off until I undo it, I tested that. But after a while, they’ll stop moving. All you have to do to get them to move again, is poke the paper. If you touch one of the lines, they’ll start moving again.” He gathers the rest of the sheets and closes the book. Getting up, he says, “Did you say there was dinner? I’m _hungry_. This stuff takes loads of energy. And I’ve been practicing all day.”

All Dean does is nod, until he realizes Sam is already halfway back to the house. He gets to his feet too and walks after his brother, with his eyes still focused on the paper. Daphne and Fred are suspiciously close to each other. He pokes them with his finger and they move away from each other. Satisfied, Dean folds the paper and carefully puts it in his pocket, before picking up his pace.

-*-*-*-

“Can you pass me the water, please?” Jo asks as Dean walks in the kitchen. Ellen, Bobby, Jo and Sam are already eating, and with a look at his little brother, Dean sits down next to Jo. The bottle with water flies through the air and lands in front of Jo. Sam smiles at her when she thanks him and pours out water for herself and Dean. Ellen scoops a busload of potatoes and carrots on Dean’s plate and he starts eating, hungry from the day he spend helping Bobby with the cars. When he sees Bobby looking at a sheet of paper in front of him though, he stops with his fork halfway his mouth.

“What’s that? Is that another one of my drawings?” He eyes his little brother and the guilty looks he gets in return tells him all he needs to know. “You did more than the one you gave me?”

Sam smiles sheepishly and nods. “I found lots of your drawings. Bobby found one I forgot to clean up after I was done. Everyone says they’re really good, by the way.”

Dean looks around the table and all he sees are people agreeing with his little brother. He scoffs and Ellen raises her eyebrow at him. “What?” He asks. “They’re not that good. And I can’t do anything with being able to draw anyway. Dad’ll never allow that.”

Next to him, he can practically _feel_ Jo roll her eyes. “So? You don’t have to be able to _do_ anything with them. Just make them for fun! And if that’s not a good enough reason for you, then make them for Sam, so he can enchant them. It’s really cool.”

Dean looks at the others again and then shrugs. Concentrating on his food again, he lets go of the topic. After a short silence, Ellen and Bobby start talking about some adult stuff, and his thoughts start to drift off. Maybe he can draw some of the cars of Bobby’s next. That would be a cool thing to have, a drawn car that can actually drive on the paper. When he looks up, he sees Sam looking at him. His brother is smiling at him and Dean can’t do anything but smile back. Yes, one of the cars it is. If only to make Sammy happy.


	7. Chapter 6 - As You Are

“Hand me that, will you?” Dean points at his sketchpad and Sam looks at him from across Dean’s room. They’re packing, and Sam is already done, so now he’s helping his brother – well, he’s sitting against the wall, going through his book. He looks at where Dean is pointing and uses his magic to give his brother the pad, along with the pencils scattered around it. After two weeks at Bobby’s he’s completely grown used to using his magic for the most ordinary things, like handing others stuff from across the room, so he doesn’t have to get up. After dropping the pad in Dean’s lap, he returns to reading in his book.

After a while, he hears Dean sigh heavy. He looks up and sees his big brother looking at him. “What is it? Did you ask something and I didn’t hear you?” Sam closes his book and starts getting up to help Dean, but his brother’s voice stops him.

“No, Sammy, that’s not it. It’s just… We’re going with dad again. You know you can’t use your powers with him, right?”

Sam stares at him for a moment before his brain processes the message fully. He opens his mouth to protest, but Dean is faster.

“I know what you’re gonna say. And I need you to know that I feel the same way. But… you know how dad gets. You know it’s better if you don’t use them. I’m sorry, Sammy, I-”

Before Dean can finish his sentence, Sam gets up and puts his book under his arm. With an angry look at his brother, he opens the bedroom door and steps out of the room. Before he closes it, he looks back at his brother, who’s sitting on the floor of the bedroom that was his for the past weeks, all kinds of stuff he collected surrounding him; a screwdriver Bobby gave him, sheets of paper, an eraser, several pencils. Before he can say anything, Sam turns around and stamps down the stairs.

His feet automatically lead him to the patch of trees in the back of Bobby’s yard. With tears burning in his eyes, he sinks down under one of the trees. How could Dean say that? They had had such a good time with Bobby and Ellen and Jo, and he’s grown used to his magic so much that he can’t even imagine not using it anymore. If their stay here has taught him anything, it’s that he’s complete with it; not using his magic is like not using an arm or a leg.

With his head leaning against a tree, he looks up at the bright blue sky above him. He takes a deep breath and the smell of apple trees and freshly cut grass fills his nose. He closes his eyes briefly, until he hears the grass rustle beside him. Instinctively, he knows Dean has followed him here. Without opening his eyes, he says, “What? Do you have any more rules you want me to follow? More ways you want to be like dad?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back, and when he opens his eyes and looks at his brother, his guilt spikes through the roof. “Dean…”

“No, you’re right. I get it. I sound like dad when I say that stuff. But it’s better that you hear it from me than from him. It’s not safe to use your powers all day. Someone could see you do it, and we need to avoid that. It’s…”

“I know, Dean,” Sam interrupts him. “I know, you don’t have to say anything else, because I already know what you’re going to say. It’s not safe, and I could hurt someone, and we need to be careful, and you keep repeating the same things!” He sits straighter up and looks his brother in his face. “You and dad keep saying the same things. But if I can’t use my magic, I can’t practice, and then it’s normal that it’s dangerous when I use them! But I used them here, and nothing happened. I’ve gotten a lot better, and if you’d just let me, I could do even better! Why don’t you…”

Dean interrupts him again. “Sam, I’m not telling you this because it’s what I think; I’m telling you because I know that as soon as we get in the car, dad’ll tell you the exact same thing, and I wanted you to hear it from me, like I said. Don’t think that I don’t support you; I’ve been watching you, and I love it! You can do some amazing things, and I love seeing you develop your magic! But you know dad doesn’t see it that way, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. Please.”

Dean’s pleading face finally manages to calm Sam down a little. He sits back against the tree again and sighs. With a look at Dean, he reaches beneath his shirt and pulls at the string around his neck. He pulls it over his head and hands it to Dean. “Here. Take this. I want you to have it.”

Dean looks at him and takes the necklace. “What is this?”

“I don’t know, it’s some kind of necklace I found in Bobby’s study. There’s all kinds of weird stuff in there. Anyway, he also didn’t know what it stands for. But I… um… added something. Put it on.”

After a questioning look towards his little brother, Dean shrugs and pulls the thread over his head. He arranges the necklace, with a charm that looks like some kind of animal’s head on it, on his chest and then looks expectantly back at Sam. “So? What is it?”

Sam smiles and his eyes glow golden briefly, his gaze fixed on the amulet on Dean’s chest. The charm lights up golden for about two seconds, before going back to normal. Dean startles and takes the necklace in the palm of his hand, ready to take it off again, but when he feels the thing is not warm or different in any way, he gasps. He looks back up at Sam, who’s smiling proudly.

“Nice, right? I found the spell in Bobby’s book. It doesn’t do anything but that; it just makes the head light up for a moment. I can make it do that from a distance too; I tested that out with Jo a few times. No matter how far I am, if I concentrate hard enough, I can make it light up. Of course we couldn’t go really far, because then we’d leave Bobby’s yard, but we’re not far from each other most of the time anyway. I just wanted to give you that.” Sam smiles and then his eyes darken with doubt for a second. “But if you don’t want it, that’s fine. I can just… um, I can just take it with me in my bag too. Or I can give it to… Jo, or Bobby, or…” His voice dies away, and his gaze drops to his feet.

Dean hurries to assure his brother he’s happy with the gift. “Are you kidding? I love it! A necklace that my magical baby brother can make light up? That’s amazing! Thank you, Sammy. And I’m sorry about before.” Dean smiles and tucks the amulet under his shirt, before leaning forward and wrapping Sam in a short hug. Sam relaxes and then they get to their feet. “Now, we still need to finish packing. Dad will be here tomorrow, and we need to be ready when he gets here. Are you coming?”

Sam nods and they walk back to the house together, Sam with his book clamped against his chest and Dean with his arm around his little brother.

-*-*-*-

“Hey, John, come in! Dinner’s ready, you’re just in time!” Ellen greets John as he walks through the door and she points towards the kitchen. John begins to excuse himself, saying he can’t stay, but Ellen’s gaze has him stop making apologies and he just follows her to the kitchen, where the table is set and dinner is waiting. As he sits down, Sam and Dean stumble into the kitchen, directly followed by Jo, who’s apparently chasing the boys around. When the brothers see their father, they immediately stop laughing and Dean stands up a little straighter.

“Hello, Sam, Dean. I see you’re having fun.” John attempts a smile towards his sons, and it seems to relax at least Sam a little. Neither of them say anything, though, so after an awkward silence, Jo manages to break the tension.

“Hi! I’m Jo. I didn’t see you when Sam and Dean got here. Nice to meet you!” She steps forward with her hand stretched out. John seems surprised, but after a penetrating look from Ellen, he hurries to take Jo’s hand and shake it.

“Nice to meet you too. So, you’re the little girl Bobby can’t shut up about whenever we’re together?” His remark gets rewarded with a chuckle from Jo and a nod from Ellen, and then Bobby enters the room.

“John! I thought I heard your voice! So, did you get around to that business of yours?” John gives him a warning look and shakes his head lightly, and without getting an answer to Bobby’s question, they all sit down around the table. Sam stands to the side for a little longer than the rest, thinking about that silent conversation between his dad and Bobby, but when Jo calls him, he smiles at her and sits down next to her, across from his brother.

“So, Jo, did you have a nice holiday break? These two troublemakers didn’t get too much in your way, did they?” John addresses Jo as Bobby starts loading their plates with the lasagna Ellen made. Jo laughs and promptly starts telling all kinds of stories about the past weeks. She uses her hands and Ellen has to tell her several times to stop throwing tomato sauce all over the kitchen, but they all enjoy her enthusiasm and soon, they’re laughing and telling stories all around.

“Sam, can you pass me the salt?” Sam looks at his brother when Dean asks him the question, and still laughing about Jo’s latest anecdote, he doesn’t think. His eyes glow gold and the salt lands in front of Dean, while Sam doesn’t even stop eating. John drops his cutlery on his plate.

“What the hell did you just do?” His voice is dangerously calm as he looks at his youngest son, but Sam cringes in his chair under his gaze. When he doesn’t get an answer, John looks around the table. Everyone has stopped laughing, and Jo has a frightened look on her face. “What is this?” John asks, directly at Bobby. It’s Dean who answers him, though.

“Dad, Sammy’s been using his magic all the time since we got here. It’s no big deal, he can control it fine.”

John turns to his oldest son. “Oh, does he now? Get your bags. We’re leaving.” He turns away from his son and Dean’s shoulders drop. He doesn’t look anyone in the eyes as he goes upstairs to get his and Sam’s bags.

John turns to Bobby. “Is that true? Have you been encouraging him? And you,” he says to Sam, without waiting for Bobby to answer him. “Haven’t you gotten it? You’re NOT ALLOWED TO USE THOSE POWERS!” He suddenly starts screaming and stands up, causing his chair to fall to the ground. Sam sinks further into his chair, trying to disappear into thin air.

“Hey! You don’t have the right to start screaming in my house, John Winchester!” Bobby gets up too, so he and John are face to face. “Yes, Sam has been using his _gift_ , because it’s not right not to! He’s-”

“NOT RIGHT? WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME WHAT’S RIGHT AND WHAT NOT? HE’S MY SON, YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY IN THIS!” John’s face is starting to get red, and he gestures wild with his hands. Ellen takes Jo by her shoulder and leads her away, up the stairs. Dean just comes back down, with the bags over his shoulder. He drops them on the ground and shortly catches Ellen in a hug.

“Thank you for letting us stay here. We had a really good time.” He smiles at her faintly before picking up the bags again and returning to the kitchen. When he sees his dad and Bobby stand across from each other, he stops dead in the doorway.

“YES, HE’S YOUR SON! BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO SUPPRESS WHAT HE CAN DO!” Bobby loses his cool too and starts screaming right back in John’s face. When John hears what Bobby has to say, he squints his eyes and takes a half step back.

“I don’t have the right to _suppress what he can do_?” His voice is back to dangerously calm, and Dean can feel the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand up at that tone. “Do you even know what you’re talking about, man? Do you even know _squat_? No, I bet you don’t, do you?”

When Bobby frowns, John laughs almost hysterically. “HE KILLED HIS OWN MOM! _HIS MAGIC IS DANGEROUS!_ HE KILLED HER!” He starts yelling again, and Dean gasps and drops the bags he’s still holding to the floor. Without thinking, he runs over to Sam, who’s still sitting in his chair, with the forgotten plate of lasagna in front of him on the table. By the look on his face, Dean can tell he understands what their dad just said.

“Sammy. _Sam_. Sam!” He shakes his brother’s shoulder, and the boy looks up at him with the most broken look in his eyes. Dean shakes his head and just takes his brother outside, picking up the bags when they pass by them. Behind them, John and Bobby continue yelling at each other, Bobby telling John not to blame his son for something he can’t help and John telling Bobby that that’s exactly the problem; that Sam can’t control his powers. Dean leads Sam to the car and turns the boy around so they’re looking at each other. “Sammy. Look at me.”

Sam looks up at him with tears in his eyes. “Is that true? Is it true what dad said? Did I kill mom?” His voice is barely more than a whisper and breaks at the end.

Dean takes his shoulders. “No. No, no, you didn’t, you hear me? You didn’t kill her. Mom died in a fire, that’s not your fault.”

“Then why did dad say that?” Sam’s teary eyes are killing Dean. “Dean? Why did he say that?”

Dean sighs and then decides he can’t keep anything from the kid anyway. If he doesn’t say it, it’ll just come up in the next argument, and he’d rather have Sam hear it from him than from their dad when he’s drunk again.

“Mom’s last words were that you had something to do with the fire that killed her. That doesn’t mean…” Dean squeezes Sam’s shoulders tighter when his brother opens his mouth. “Hey, that doesn’t mean you killed her! You were six months old, it wasn’t your fault! But… dad thinks it is, and that’s the reason he tells you not to use your magic. So…” He doesn’t know what else to say, and judging by Sam’s face, he’s said all he had to. His brother collapses against the car and hides his face in his hands. Dean sinks to his knees and takes him in his arms, not saying anything anymore.

They’re still sitting there on the ground when John comes to the car, with Bobby yelling after him that they don’t have to return to him if John’s going to be such a hypocrite. John flips him off without turning around and tells Dean to get in the car. He doesn’t look at Sam, who’s still hiding his face in his hands.

Dean gently lifts his brother up and helps him into the car. Sam sinks against the window, looking at Bobby’s house through the window. Dean puts their bags in the trunk of the car. When he lifts Sam’s, he shoots a quick look at his dad, and when he sees John is sitting behind the wheel waiting for him to get in the car too, he bows down and zips the bag open. He feels around until he finds the soft leather of the book Sam has been carrying around for the past two weeks. He takes one of Sam’s shirts, wraps it around the book and tucks the package at the bottom of the bag. Checking if it’s not visible, he closes the bag again with another look at his dad and then closes the trunk.

As soon as he gets into the car, John drives away. With a sigh, Dean looks over at Sam, who’s still staring out of the window. His hand reaches up to wrap around the amulet around his neck as he looks back to the house one last time, before it disappears in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is named after "[As You Are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjKlK0njMcw)" by Charlie Puth and Shy Carter – yes, rather sarcastically.


	8. Chapter 7 - Brain Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from “[Brain Damage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhYKN21olBw)” by Pink Floyd.

“Are you finished with that? Can I take it away?”

Sam looks up at Dean and nods. His brother takes his plate and puts it in the sink, to be washed later – probably by one or both of the brothers. Sam gets out of his chair and moves to the couch of their current motel room. It’s nicer than usual; he actually has clean sheets this time, and his pillow is not as flat as it usually is. And, more importantly, they have an actual couch, with a television in front of it. The last time Sam can remember they had that, was before John left Sam and Dean with Bobby and Ellen.

Sam sighs at the thought of Bobby and Ellen. It’s been six months since they left there with John raging, and life just goes on as if they have never been there; they’re moving around, John chasing something or someone, constantly arriving in new towns or cities. In the past six months, Sam has been to five different schools. They haven’t stayed at any of them long enough to form a connection with any other kid; it’s always just him and Dean.

Well, until John arrives in their room. Then it’s the three of them, and Sam hates how the mood in the room immediately changes when their dad is there. Dean almost becomes a completely different person with their dad around. When they’re alone, he asks Sam how school is going, and he seems genuinely interested in the answers Sam gives him. When John is in the room, Dean tends to ignore Sam almost as much as John does; completely.

Sam tries his best to try and reconnect with his brother; he hasn’t used his magic once since they left Bobby’s. He can still feel it shimmering underneath his skin; it’s still there. He just doesn’t _do_ anything with it.

Not that the only reason for that is to get Dean and John’s approval. Ever since Bobby’s and the things that were screamed in the kitchen there, Sam refuses to use his magic himself. He finally gets why his dad is so strict with him, and who is he to put others in danger?

“Sam? What are you doing?”

Dean’s voice gets him out of his thoughts, and Sam startles. “Nothing. I’m going to watch TV.” He turns to the television and turns it around. He feels Dean looking at him, but he doesn’t react to it.

“Fine. We’re leaving tomorrow, so remember to be ready to go.” Dean disappears in their bedroom with a pad of paper under his arm. Sam just stares at the television.

-*-*-*-

“Sam! Did you hear me? I asked you a question!”

Sam startles and looks at the teacher in front of his nose. He has to stop himself from asking how she got there; last time he checked, she was on the other side of the room. “Sorry? Could you repeat the question? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”

The woman squints at him and articulates extra clearly. “I _asked_ you to go over to the _blackboard_ and _please_ solve the exercise there. You think you can handle that?” Her toxic comment leads to several snickers across the classroom. Sam ignores them and gets up, walking over to the front of the classroom to solve the equation there. On his way, he almost trips over the leg of one of the kids, but he catches himself before he can fall to the ground and just keeps going. He solves the exercise as fast as he can and returns to his seat in the back of the room.

“Well… That’s correct.” Their teacher sounds like she doesn’t like to admit that at all while she orders the other kids from the 6th grade to copy Sam’s answer into their books. Sam sits back in his chair, mildly satisfied with himself. This lady has been embarrassing in front of everyone since the first day he got here, three weeks ago, and he’s glad he finally got a chance to get back at her – even if it was only a small victory, he’ll take it.

“Okay, Bert, you take the next one. It’s not that difficult, you should be able to-”

Sam doesn’t hear the rest of her words anymore when a sudden wave of pain comes over him. He leans forward, grabbing his head with both hands in a desperate attempt to stop the hurting. It doesn’t do anything, though; he starts seeing black around the edges of his sight. And then, just as suddenly as it came, the headache disappears again. When he looks up, he sees the whole class looking at him.

“Are you alright over there? Do you need to go to the nurse again?” The teacher – Sam doesn’t even bother remembering her name – furrows her brows and looks at Sam.

He sits up straighter and answers, “No, I’m fine. Just a headache again. I’ll be okay.”

The teacher nods and turns back to Bert, to help with the exercise. Sam rests his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. Maybe he should mention those headaches to Dean one of these days. They’ve been happening for a few months now, and they only seem to get worse. Well, it’s probably nothing. At least, not important enough to bother his brother or father with them.

Sam picks up his pencil again and starts copying the equation Bert managed to solve.

-*-*-*-

“Go to your bed! I don’t want to see any more of you today! Get out of my eyes!”

Sam backs away and closes the door of the room behind him. Outside the door, he can hear John getting up to fetch a new beer from the fridge. Sam sinks down on his bed and lays down on his back, with his arms folded behind his head. He closes his eyes and drifts off slowly, trying hard not to think about what just happened.

“Sam? What happened? Why is dad angry this time?”

Dean’s voice makes Sam open his eyes and he lifts his head up, to see his brother enter the room. Dean sits down on his own bed, across from Sam’s, and looks at his little brother – who’s getting bigger every day, nearing 14.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything. I came in, and dad went crazy. He said I was too late, but it’s two more hours until it’s 8 PM, and that’s when he said I had to be back. I guess he didn’t notice that through the mist of alcohol in his blood.” He adds sourly.

Dean sighs and leans back against the wall. “Well, he’s in his bed now, so if you want something to eat, I can make us something. How do you feel about… burgers?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Burgers? Again, Dean, really?”

“If you’d rather have something else, you can make it yourself, bitch.”

Sam just shrugs and gets up from the bed. “Okay, burgers it is then, _jerk_.”

Dean squints at Sam’s response. “Did you finally think of a comeback, Sammy? I’m proud of you!” he says jokingly, before getting up as well and walking over to their mini-kitchen, where he starts clanging with pans and pots. Sam briefly wonders how he can need that much stuff they’d have to clean to simply make some burgers, but when he sits down at the table and notices the sketchpad, he lets it go.

“What is this?” he asks, staring at the paper on top of the pad. Dean looks over his shoulder and shrugs.

“Just something I’m working on. I won’t finish it, I think. I don’t like it.”

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing!” Sam looks in wonder at the flowers blooming on the paper. “They’re so realistic. Did you go to a flower shop to draw these?”

“No, they were… they were on the windowsill in my classroom this afternoon. I was bored.”

Sam stares at the flowers. There are several kinds, and there’s no way they looked this alive in real life, if what Dean says is true and they were in a classroom; he’s never come across classroom flowers that were actually _alive_. These are very much alive, though; it feels like he could touch them and they’d move under his touch. He almost has to repress the urge to bring the paper to his face, to smell the flowers.

“Sammy, drop it. Set the table, will you? I’m almost done.” Dean walks over and takes the sketch pad out of Sam’s hands, placing it on the countertop next to him. Sam gets up and takes plates out of the cabinets, but he can’t get the drawing out of his mind. As he places the plates on the table, he thinks back to the drawings Dean made when they were at Bobby’s. Now, _those_ were magical, and not only because of his own input. But he has to admit he’s glad Dean didn’t give up drawing since then; if anything, it seems he’s gotten better at it.

When Dean puts the burgers on their plates, the pain in Sam’s head increases a little. He does his best not to let it show, though; it’s a constant in his life by now, and the pain never really disappears anymore. He smiles at his brother as he hands Dean the ketchup – by hand.

-*-*-*-

“Be back on time this time! I don’t want to see you one minute late here! Don’t stay hanging around in that stupid library again!”

“YES! I’ll be here!” Sam yells, just before slamming the door of the car closed, making it impossible for John to say anything else to him. He doesn’t wait for Dean to get out the car before he walks up the stairs and goes into the building. With furious steps, he walks through the hallways, his backpack slumped over one shoulder and his gaze fixed on an undetermined point in front of him. He walks into several people, but he ignores them all as he makes his way over to his classroom.

“Sam? What is it?” Mr. Wyatt frowns at him when he enters the classroom ten minutes before he’s actually supposed to be here.

“Nothing. It’s… my dad. I… I don’t want to talk about it.” Sam sits down in his chair and gets out his books, without looking Mr. Wyatt in the eyes, instead staring at his desk. He can hear the man sigh, but luckily he gets left alone. He’s _really_ not in the mood for much talking right now. He’s too pissed at his dad for that, honestly.

The uncomfortable silence in the room is broken when one by one, the other students start coming in. Their banter and chaotic conversations only go a little quieter after Mr. Wyatt’s third attempt to silence them, and then he starts the class as fast as he can, in order to not give them another opening to start talking again. Sam zones out as he listens to the man explain something about poems in the 16th century. It’s interesting, or it would be if he hadn’t had this exact lesson in his previous school. He sometimes wishes the different school across the States were a little better at synchronizing their programs. That way, he wouldn’t have to sit through all the boring things three times in a row, while he misses the important bits. It sucks, big time. And he blames his dad.

And maybe himself. If sixteen years ago, he hadn’t started that- No, _stop_ thinking about that. It’s already bad enough his dreams are tormented with images of burning houses, with him in the middle of it, he doesn’t need that to happen during the day. That’s the last thing he needs while he’s in the middle of a class with a teacher that actually pays attention to him.

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr. Wyatt stops his explanation of the themes and motifs in the poems and shouts “Yes? Come in, please!” at whoever is waiting on the other side of the door. The door opens and a young lady enters the classroom.

“I’m looking for Sam Winchester. Is he here?”

Mr. Wyatt looks over at Sam, who’s staring at the lady, wondering what she could possibly be needing from him. Realizing there’s only one way to find that out, he gets up from his chair and follows her outside the classroom. She doesn’t stop, though; she keeps walking, leaving him no other choice but to follow her all the way to the third floor. She enters the office that apparently belongs to the principal, judging by the sign on the door. She gestures him to sit down, and then looks at him with a sad look. The words she speaks next are the ones Sam least expected to hear.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but we just got notice from the hospital. John Winchester died in a car accident. Your dad has deceased, Sam.”


End file.
